Her Troika (The Complete Story) (Dominion Trust Book 2) Read Free

sounds, two distinct voices were much louder now, the murmured, low speech punctuated by heavy footfalls on the floorboards, and another set of lighter, more frequent, irregular footsteps.
    “Hello?” Breanna knew speech was prohibited unless directly spoken to, but kneeling in her stall, invisible to anyone passing by unless the draped their arms over the top of her lonely enclosure, she had the overwhelming urge to talk to someone, anyone, to stave off the boredom — and the sense that she’d been forgotten.
    Stupid girl. You’re going to wish you WERE forgotten in an hour or two.
    Was that true though? Sure, when she and Kurt arrived, things had gone almost exactly as they had her first time up here. The silent walk from the truck, Kurt’s hand clasping hers in a firm grip, not saying a word, not even looking at her. Kurt’s quick gesture with his hand, not even making eye contact with her, expecting obedience.
    Of course, she had obeyed, kneeling on the hard-packed earth, irritated that her new woolen stockings were likely to be stained. Still, she’d felt the cold seep through the fabric, and was thankful for even that modest protection.
    There’d been the quick conversation above her bowed head. Kurt’s list of instructions for the groom, Breanna’s face blushing deeply as her husband’s orders became increasingly strict, even severe. Then a quick touch of his big hand to her cheek, and he was gone, the stocky form of Lino standing over her. She’d looked up at the tanned, weathered face, the eyes almost black. He’d smiled at her, his teeth bright against his copper skin, he pulled her to her feet with deceptive gentleness. That had been quickly dispelled when he’d clasped her neck in the collar. Following the tug of the leash, she followed him silently inside the barn
    “Which one did Lino say we needed to use?” The man’s voice held a hint of tension, perhaps nervousness?
    “Stall two.” A different, deeper voice said. The accent was something she couldn’t place. Almost like a submerged Australian with a hint of something Germanic. “Ah, here we are. Two”
    They must have been right outside her stall. Breanna’s heart pounded, and she tried to hunch over, make herself smaller, but the tight chain affixed to her collar prevented her from leaning forward much at all.
    Bastard Lino.
    One of her husband’s instructions to the groom was to ensure that Breanna couldn’t hide, specifically that she couldn’t hide her breasts. At first, she’d been relieved, fearing she’d have to kneel there in her own little world, her trembling breasts bare for all the world to see.
    This was only slightly better, bound so tightly she could neither rise nor lie down, stuck in her kneeling posture. On display like some animal.
    “Where should we put her?” Mr. Nervous asked. A note of eagerness had crept into that voice. Anticipation. “That bench?”
    “Bend her over it,” the deeper voice said. “There, like that. Spread your legs, girl.” There was a metallic sound of chains. “Yes … there should be one on the other side too. See?”
    “Got it,” Mr. Nervous said, grunting.
    There were several thunks from the stall next door, the sound vibrating the floorboards under Breanna’s partially numb knees. She wondered how much longer she’d be left in that position, her lower legs threatening to fall asleep soon.
    Breanna heard a soft whimper. A female? She heard it again, louder, but she couldn’t make out any words. Another woman! She wouldn’t be alone here after all. It was cold comfort, kneeling there in the straw, but just knowing she wouldn’t be the only woman there this weekend meant she wouldn’t be the sole focus of attention.
    Unlike last time.
    She shuddered, squeezing her thighs shut at the treacherous tingling in her pussy at the dark memories of her inaugural visit to this place.
    Breanna froze at the sound of something metal banging against the wood wall of her enclosure, the